


The new Shadow Broker's unbridled rage

by Kaiwi



Category: Mass Effect, Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Non-Consensual Bondage, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-08 18:31:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19874143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaiwi/pseuds/Kaiwi
Summary: What if after the war, Shepard disappeared?What if Liara discovered this betrayal? And...Acted upon emotion rather than logic, driven by desire for vengeance.What if Shepard wasn't the same anymore?  Could they return to the way they were. How will the star-crossed lovers react? Will one of them even get to?Accidentally deleted the fic in an attempt to remove multi-posted chapters. This is a re-upload. Original post date 19th July 2019. Apologies to those who have bookmarked and kudos'dCurrent Status: Indefinite pause. Lost storyboard, cannot recover, lack of time due to work. I will be focusing on one story at a time. Viewing this as a stepping stone, as my return to writing, I've read this story over and over. I hate the fact it feels like telling a story rather than showing. Like all my other stories, they will be put on hold, including Wingless.





	1. Discovery

**Author's Note:**

> I was not happy with my previous work, this story is effectively the same but re-written, drastically shortened to take away the many unnecessary details and placed under Liara’s perspective rather than Shepard’s.
> 
> The following chapters will be lengthier, meatier and perhaps juicier.
> 
> The previous work lead with Shepard’s perspective and the reason this event came to be, however it seemed to have missed the mark upon self-review. It would’ve delivered a different plot overall. The story itself would’ve taken many chapters to reach the plot and theme—That is why I have opted to lead with a considerable time skip.
> 
> This is an explicit story. I suck at titles and summary’s.
> 
> I can't believe it--In the process of uploading the newest chapter, I accidentally clicked delete work, thinking it would delete the chapter (Since I was editing and clicked post multiple times, well you can guess what happened..)

**2188 CE. September 23rd**

Two years. Two whole fuckin’ years. Bordering on three!

 _“The nerve—The audacity. The—The…”_ Speechless in her silent tirade, by the actions of a single human. The sheer thought sent a bloodcurdling rage through her entire being, tremoring violently where she stood, delicate fingers curling into a fist. Tilting her gaze downward to glower at the data pad resting on top of the lightweight aluminium desk, nostrils flaring dangerously as her limb exploded with energy and coated with a sheen of blue energy.

Brows furrowing into a disgusted snarl, the trembling arm swung out in the air as if to strike an unseen enemy. Liara’s back prickled with heat as she discharged a cry of unadulterated curse words and flung a singularity, a sphere of dark energy with an intense mass effect field. The framed picture of bond mate and her levitated by the sphere’s gravitational powers, floating about harmlessly, drawing the biotics’ gaze, eyes ablaze. What followed, a powerful biotic explosion disintegrating the object. Shards of glass and wood scattered across the cabin floor like a shower of rain.

A wave of nausea struck, legs buckling underneath the weight, collapsing into a heap on top of the fine leather armchair beneath. Snatching the data pad before her, the metal and glass like ice to touch, fatigue evident in the motion. Raising it to eye level, for what felt like the seven hundredth time. Some part wished it wasn’t true, the other leapt up and down in joy whilst the rest screamed for vengeance.

By sheer dumb luck, she intercepted this seemingly innocent message. An outlet, to escape the guilt. Wishing if only she had been quicker…Stronger…Just something…. She wouldn’t have lost--  
  
Liara swallowed visibly, the pact burned into her mind. Through every possible means, refusing to lose another individual cherished by her, to war and violence, never again.

The private message titled, 

Subject: To my dearest.

“Dear, Hannah Shepard,

I hope this message finds you well…Some part of me hopes you will not dismiss this as a distasteful prank another part of me, does.

I am alive. I am sorry. There were circumstances. I…I couldn’t bring myself to come forth. I’ve still yet to…I am broken.

Born a Spacer, a War Hero of Elysium.

Find me at the outskirts of Horizon, small town of Arcadia.

Find me, all will be answered there.

Your little brat,

Allison Gunn.”

Liara read the private mail out loud, twice. Then thrice. Clutching her chest with a claw-like grip, expression darkening like battery acid being poured into her heart. The feeling of betrayal, how could this woman—The one she had given her heart, body and very soul to, do this to her? Emotion triumphed over logic

Her features creased, fist clenching so tightly the sweat remained trapped, tears dripping down the pale cerulean cheeks, quivering in the homely seat. She fought the urge to rampage with all her soul. The effort seemingly drained the influential asari considerably, the years of emptiness and sorrow fading, now bitter and resentful.

Every fibre of her being demanded justice, to inflict upon every form of suffering imaginable upon the woman she once called Commander—Shepard. _Lover_. _Bond…Mate._ Raising her head slowly and composing her crumpled posture, staring forward at the terminal littered with personal information concerning Allison Gunn—No, Commander Jane Shepard. Council Spectre, Savior of the Galaxy. Supposedly deceased, apparently not.

Liara gritted her teeth, the asari raising her arm into the air before slamming onto the desk with an uncanny speed, metal creaking in protest as it gave way to the immense force exerted upon its frame.

Since assuming the mantle of shadow broker, the young asari had developed an expanding repertoire for blackmail, torture and violence when necessary. Coupled with the loss of her bond mate, left her teetering near the brink of insanity. Through the support of life-long friends and family had reigned in the claws of the demon residing in her mind. Now, slowly unshackling.

“You will live to regret this day, Shepard. I will inflict upon you, what you have put me through a thousand times over. You will wish, plead and cry for the memories of our blissful days aboard the Normandy. I will….” Liara seethed, “I will tether your very being to a new life—You will be the dog that licks the shit from my boots.”

“Will that be all, Dr. Tson—” A robotic voice attempted to chime in, cut off by a single round from the M-77 Paladin in hand. Glyph clanking onto the floor with a solitary thud.

Born anew.

The shadow broker rose from her seat, pivoting on a heel towards the door, prior tears glistening in the neon lit room and passing through the minefield of shattered glass without a care. Time to pay a visit to Horizon.

Time to bring down the full unbridled rage of the Shadow Broker down.


	2. Hunt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, a meatier and chunkier chapter.
> 
> Please do leave some feedback, let me know if the pacing is too slow or fast. If the language is or isn’t repetitive.
> 
> I’ve spent a good chunk of time second guessing myself with this one. Unable to decide if phrasing and flow was decent. Let me know if it is progressing too slow or fast.
> 
> As always, hope your day is going well!
> 
> Still can't believe I accidentally deleted the entire work - Relearning how to use Ao3 again

**2189 CE. September 25th – Saturday, Milky Way / Shadow Sea / Lera**

**11:00 AM**

“Verdant forests, abundant lakes and forests, shrouded by its dark history in recent years. The collector’s assault in 2185 CE followed shortly by Cerberus’s intervention, establishment by the name of ‘Sanctuary’ offering the false promise of shelter from the reaper war, a front for indoctrination studies.

The population decimated by these two events, it had been a slow process of recovery. Yet the undeniable habitability provided incentive enough for many human-kind colonists to retake the planet, bolstered by their renewed popularity and standing in the galaxy, a surge of asari, turian and even krogan colonists and tourism followed. The economic opportunity promised substantial returns for humans and turians notably, once colonial culture had subsided and given way to a multi-cultural hub for history and music.

A chilling yet inspirational reminder of sacrifice, heroism and resilience. Here, Commander Jane Shepard made her official return following her apparent death, partnered with the human supremacist paramilitary group, Cerberus. An act out of sheer desperation and necessity at the time, drawing immediate ire and concern from the public, later discovered it was performed out of the Alliance’s ignorance and political red tape…..”

The asari paused, lowering the data pad. Pinched her throat with forefinger and thumb, reaching for the glass of water residing on the metallic mess table, tipping half of its content into her parched mouth.

“Doctor T’soni, we have arrived.” A soothing and silvery yet disembodied voice chimed through.

The Shadow Broker set the information system down, last visit an unpleasant memory. The assault on Sanctuary. She hadn’t expected its recovery much less the new and thriving multi-cultural community.

It would’ve made a decent holiday destination for the former archaeologist.

Garbed in her usual science uniform, trademark grey and white streaked coat and pants finished with an ocean blue trim inline. The asari motioned, testing the flexibility of the uniform, bending forward by the hips then backward, side to side and finally reaching her limbs above and in unison away from her ample hips. Perfect. Any unnecessary resistance around the joints, a potential compromise to safety.

Dropping her gaze to her gloved hand, flexing and curling into a fist repeatedly. Eyes seemingly empty, facial features devoid of her once positive outlook, excitement for what adventure awaited, the remnants of that keepsake swallowed by desire. Her thoughts remained scattered, stomach heavy with nervous anticipation. Yet features were as cold as the grave. Pictured in her mind, hands clutching the spectre’s throat, squeezing and crushing the fragile muscular tube before driving a fist against that perfect freckled and bloomed cheek, repeatedly. Bruising and eliciting husky cries of mercy from her former lover. A warmth blossomed from the base of her spine, spreading throughout—As quick as it had come, it faded, replaced with a vast emptiness once again.

An uncomfortable sensation wrapped around in her chest, suffocatingly heavy. Strange but not unfamiliar feeling. The air tasted musty despite the premier ventilation system, drying out her tongue that she had only moments before addressed. Reaching for the glass again and tipping the rest of its contents into her throat, it wasn’t enough—It wasn’t enough to just physically assault Shepard.

Liara desired more…. Teeth gritting, fist clenching and biotics flaring, desiring to deliver every ick of suffering twice over, to yell, berate, kick and…and…tear. To rip and shatter the proud woman’s image, to bring it down to the dirt like all those years ago and worse. To lower her standing to nothing more than…than an animal, merchandise. To watch the light of hope, aspiration and expectation to fade like a campfire exposed to an open blizzard, never to reignite again.

Two years and not so much as a private message…. How could she be so cruel?

…

“Dr. T-T’S-Suhhoni. Would y-ouuhh like to re—re—read the dossier?” Glyph stuttered with a static undertone, biproduct from shoddy and quick repairs. Its uncharacteristic motion resembled a flinch, the asari turning to address.

“No.” The asari paused mid-way in front of the ramp, threw a briefly sympathetic gaze before a worrying crease shrouded features towards the drone floating unsteadily after its master. “Stay here, Glyph.” Departing down the ramp into the town of Arcadia, Horizon. _”Not like there was much about her, anyway. Not even a picture.”_

A quiet docking area, spotting two lightly armed militia by the only exit in the vast blank white space. To customs. _Urgh._ The resplendent asari practically stormed towards, the energy radiating from drew their immediate attention followed by suspicion.  
  
“H-Halt!” One of them announced, ungrasping the barrel of his rifle and raising the hand. “State your identity and purpose for this vis—”

“Dr. LIARA T’SONI, TO KILL—” The asari grinded to a halt, brows knitting together and thin lips fading, a serene expression took over. Correcting her ways, “To…To take in the sights, a pleasure trip.”

The bewildered guards stole a glance to each other, overwhelmed by the abrupt change in demeanour. The guard on the left craned his neck forward for closer inspection, eyes behind the thin visor of his helmet widening in shock. He confirmed it quickly to his companion, withdrawing and snapping to attention immediately, partner taken aback for a split second before following suit, “Ma’am!”  
  
“Will that be all?” Liara inquired coldly, behind the facade lurking a terrifying varren-like demeanour.

“Erm—Ma’am, we…We may have misheard but did you---?”

“You misheard.” The former archaeologist cut off, raised an open hand to emphasise her point. Gaze shifted between the two, noticing the same guard motioning to speak, clasping the open hand into a single pointer finger and nostrils flaring. “MIS. HEARD.”

They gulped in unison.

…

Rifles discharged in discord unison, _puhpuhpuhpuphuh_. Stray slugs buryed into the weathered dry grassland harmlessly, the rounds that found their mark, sporadic. All in all, a pathetic but admirable attempt. Exactly seventy-five meters, and less than three of the ten shooters had managed to obtain a passable rifle grouping for an Officer’s much less than the Huntress programme.

Bustling with activity, Liara noted from the shade underneath the large oak tree. By far the most populated area bar the Arcadia mall she had passed by. _“It seems like firearms training has grown in popularity in the past few years.”_ She scanned the crowd with a trained and hooded glare, a technique taught to her by the very prey being tracked. Attempting to pick out their most notable trait, their fiery crimson hair and freckled perfection.

How she arrived here was simple, merely questioning herself _“Where would Shepard lurk, in a cosy town like this with no nearby alliance base?”_ She remarked to nobody in particular, “How fitting…” Liara’s self-reflection cut short by a grating cry.

“Absolutely pathetic! You call that shooting!? Thank god you weren’t in the Navy, all of y’all would have been cut down by the reapers like fish in a barrel, I would not trust any single one of you to watch my back!” He berated, dismissing the distasteful glances and contemplations. Wiry man with gaunt features threw his arms into the air, pacing back and forth as he continued his rather boorish tirade to whomever would listen despite the crowd’s dismissal. Serving to only further his ire. His eyes locked onto a petite human female likely still in high-school, ejecting the thermal clip from pistol, the sudden hiss and ejection resulted in a flinch backwards, chestnut brown locks parted away to reveal chocolate freckles splattered generously across the nose.

Pitying the young human—Damn freckles. Unfurling her arms and striding over, sucking in a deep breath of the crisp air, boots crunching lightly underneath into fitfully dancing leaves and rolling her stiff shoulders lightly.

“For someone so young, to shoot attempt such a distance. How brave.” Liara called out audibly enough to the two, drawing the attention of those nearest to the chest high meshed fence. Almost immediately she regretted it, jaws dropped, and gasps rang out. Like the snowball effect, soon everyone’s eyes were upon. The girl twisted towards, the pivot revealed the shirt underneath the blue denim jacket, a grey t-shirt with the Normandy SR-2. Off to the side of the ship, Garrus Vakarian posing with trademark sniper rifle slung over his shoulder. The dresswear brought a faint smile to the asari’s remarkably cool features, the nostalgia too great to suppress.

Grinded to a halt on the other side of the fence, she offered the young brunette a gentle beam, motioning towards the weapon and reached out with an outstretched palm. Exhaling an amused snort, as they snapped to attention and fumbled with the safety before delivering the weapon nervously. Raising it to eye level, shutting one eye as she evaluated its condition, M-3 Predator, standard issue. The iron sights and grip well-adjusted and at a lack of fault, returning the weapon, grip first.

All the whilst the crowd stared onward agape.

“Your posture and stance are perfect, but you seem to fear the recoil.” Liara explained matter-of-factly, “You flinch the instant before squeezing.”

“I—I..uh—Th-Thank you, ma’—Muh—muh—miss!” The teen stammered in utter awe.

Before continuing, the gaunt man from earlier interjected. “Ahem—Kenneth Broo…kes…Ma’a….m” He trailed off the withering glare silencing. Eliciting quiet snickers from the crowd behind the mortified man.

“Go on, try again. But this time, relax. Just aim and… squeeze. Do not attempt to account for the recoil.”

Liara trailed beside her now protegee stepping up to the plate of the shooting booth. Parked beside, offering precise guidance. “Breathe. As many times as you need. Squeeze at the end of your exhale.”

The earlier snickers and whispers fell silent. Silence…. for the girl as she focused. Steady rhythmic breaths in its place, condensation marring their line of sight briefly.

The high-pitched almost squealing discharge rang throughout the air, a single shot loosed. It failed to hit its mark, burying itself within the inner gold ring. Mere centimetres away from the intended. Liara glanced over towards the human, anticipating disappointment instead greeted by a cry of disbelief.

The teen overjoyed, seventy-five metres with only iron sights were by most, an impressive achievement. A modest smile overcame the older asari, the event infectious as the crowd lauded the young girl’s achievement. Satisfied, the alien information broker pivoted, heading back to her observation post.

…

 _“Where the hell is she? Four hours and not a single sign…”_ Liara fumed, brows furrowed whilst her fingers plucked at the grass with swelling hostility. The onset of an orange glow began as it prepared for sunset.

“U-Uhmm…M-Miss?”

Liara snapped to the source, her features dark as they visibly flinched, retreating a few steps. Realising the mistake, taking the briefest of seconds to compose, “Oh—Apologies. I was deep in thought.”

It was the teenager from before, flanked by two taller figures. Presumably her guardians, the amber brown hair framing the oval features and chocolate freckles provided an adequate assumption. The man, possessed a round but kind features, weathered by age and sunlight with the notable monkey-like ears. Now that Liara’s attention was drawn to, the teen possessed the same trait. Together the nervous trio had somehow managed to sneak up on her.

“Ah—We apologise, o-our daughter insisted that she wanted to thank y-you.” The fruity voiced woman confirming her theory, grasping the teen’s shoulder gingerly and tugged. “We’ll leave you—”

Liara interjected, “No—It’s fine, your daughter just showed promise. As a researcher, I had the urge to nurture it.” The fluffed explanation struck the trio with apparent astonishment, eliciting glances between themselves. A notion formed in the doctor’s mind, motioning with a hand, inviting them to join her. They eagerly collapsed onto their rears before scooting close.

The teenager, first to introduce herself, “I’m Madeline! Miss—I mean, Dr. T’soni!”

“Just Liara is fine, child.” Chuckling lightly

The mother stretched out her hand gingerly, following in her child’s steps. “R-Rosie, it’s an h-honour.” Liara graciously accepted the greeting, urging the woman to continue. “A-And this is my husband—” She turned to punch the in-awe male on the arm with a flicker of annoyance, much to their daughter’s hilarity.

“Oww! Ahh, Rowan! I’m Rowan.” He stuck his hand towards before as quick as a bunny retreating to scrub furiously against his pant sleeve, cheeks in the process of flushing before attempting again.

The doctor grasped the clammy hand with a faint, all too knowing smirk. She was like this once, around a certain other individual, completely enamoured and overwhelmingly shy in front of.

“What brings you to Arcadia, doctor?” The curious girl leaned forward, eyes brimming with excitement.

“I can’t help but find my curiosity piqued as well…” Rosie bashfully admitted, scratching the back of her head followed by tense giggle.

Liara twisted her gaze away, towards the gun range once again, scanning lengthily before answering vaguely with a modulated tone. “I’m searching…” From the corner of her eye, the trio looked at each other puzzled but intrigued.

Rowan pressed onward eagerly, licking his lips anxiously, “For a person? A place? W-We’re a small but developing town, plenty of room with lush farmland.”

Tilting downward, Liara stared at a particularly long piece of grass. Reaching for it, twirling it around her pale blue finger. Silence enveloped for the moment, weighing the decision in her mind. Answering with a partial truth, “A person, their name…Allison Gunn.”

The adult duo recoiled in unison, the jerk reaction drew the researcher’s piercing sapphire gaze. “Is something the matter?” Madeline inquired their parent’s reaction by glancing repeatedly between the two, outwardly clueless.

It was their turn to hesitate. Exchanging a lengthy glance with her husband, Rosie’s sharp silver-grey gaze met the doctor’s. Seemingly puzzled and conflicted, parting her lips and started, failing twice to find the right words. “Mhh. Haa. Mnm…That individual is a bit of a…Strange case.”

“Oh?” Liara adjusted her seating position, turning onto her side and allowed her long slender legs and knees to press into the dirt, propped up by a hand, the angle showed off her curves unintentionally, cocking her slightly to the side and Indicated they had her full undivided attention.

“F-For one, she…They’re a bit of a freak, they live in a smallish to medium cabin on the outskirts of town. Two, th-they never attend many of our community functions and activities, and no matter the weather, they insist on wearing that thick grey hoody.”

“Sounds to me, like an attractive wallflower.” Liara commented, staring off into the distance, hazy.

Rowan had leaned forward, fingers out stretched and tapping against his knee. “Well…That’s the thing, nobody really knows what she looks like.” He flinched lightly as Liara offered an inquisitive look, quickly elaborating. “When she arrived, and for almost as long as we, the townspeople have known her, she’s been wrapped in bandages…”

Madeline’s expression cleared, like sunlight piercing through murky clouds. “Oh...Ohhh! You’re talking about the mummy lady!” She continued despite the clearly uncomfortable expression her parents held. “Yeah… That’s what everyone in school calls her. She has this…Uncanny ability to vanish if you take your eyes off of her for longer than a second.”

That was it, Liara practically sprung up onto her knees. Excitement blazed through her sapphire orbs, leaning in close like an excited child over free candy.

Shifting happily on the spot, leaning her head against both of her parent’s left and right shoulders respectively. Evidently adoring the attention from the well-renowned asari, “Yeah! It’s like daddy said, she was wrapped in bandages often—Kinda smelt weird too, like talcum powder!”

“Dear! How do you know about that!? Didn’t we tell you to stay away from?” Rosie cut in, lecturing Madeline with a disapproving tone and expression.

“But—Mom! She always lurks around the gun range here, and some of the older and experienced shooters even claim that she provides amazing advice.” Madeline whined in turn, “Plus, she seems nice enough—Just…shy!”

Liara’s features scrunched up, puzzled. Leaning away from and turning her gaze upwards, sinking into deep thought as they bickered. _“Shy…? That doesn’t sound anything like Shepard._ _Anti-social perhaps, if one does not wish to be bothered and the uncanny ability to reposition, they all fit the checklist.”_

“Where might I find her?” Her soft voice cut their squabble short, almost a murmur, but the effect was instant.

Rowan answered, his tone indicating his uncertainty. “Just a bit out of town, past the Robin’s diner. About…Twenty minutes from here?” He glanced over his shoulder, nodding along the path towards the steel targets.

Staring towards, Liara felt her blood begin to boil, fist inadvertently forming. She failed to conceal the emotion, a rare occurrence for the skilled information broker. To imagine that Shepard of all people would become her vice…Ironic.

“Doctor…? Doctor!? Doctor!” The teen grasped the asari’s forearm gingerly and shook, snapping the asari out of her train of thought, “You aren’t…. planning on hurting her, are you? She really is harmless!”

“What—No, of course not.” Liara sniffed audibly, her tone was dubious at best. What followed was genuine, reaching forward to grasp the hopeful teenager on the arm, “Thank you. You are a lovely family.” Addressing the final part towards the adults as well.

“A—Aww..I mean…It’s the least we could do—You Normandy crew are so humble and—and helpful. Not long ago, Mr. Vakarian was here too…” The rest fell upon deaf ears.

Liara paled, the same vice-like grip around her heart returned. Eyelids fluttering, thankful for the fact she was seated as the strength sapped from her legs. Almost too self-absorbed by the suffering to notice that her grip crushing the slim muscle and eliciting a soft whimper from. “Oh--!” She released the girl, retreating backwards and scrambling to her feet.

“Doctor, are you okay…?” Rowan trailed off.

Without warning she begun storming off into the distance, hands clenching into fists by her sides and shoulders hunching. Calling over her shoulder, voice shaky and hesitant. “GAR..RUS is a…Nice man!” Was all she managed.

 _“Not only by Shepard but you too, Garrus!? GARRUS VAKARIAN?! ARGHHHHHHHH.”_ Liara frothed at the mouth, scowling, brow twitching involuntarily and ugly with rage. “ _YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE MY FRIEND TOO!”_ How long had they known each other for? How long did he know, HOW LONG DID HE HIDE THIS FACT?! The urge to shriek and destroy everything in her sight like a banshee grew, a certain psychotic biotic crossed her mind. One of her trademark taunts struck.

 _“I WiLl DesTRoY yOu!”_ If nothing else, the fact that Shepard confided in the turian about her supposed survival…Pushing her already frail mind towards the deep end, all those years of denial, grief counselling and mourning…For what? Who else knew but her!?

The intense jealousy flared her biotics with enough force to thrust the plant life away from. Under the afternoon glow of sunset, she marched towards the source of all her recent misery. She would have her satisfaction—Obliterate in every sense of the word.

To rip… and beat, physically, mentally and _sexually_ even.

Nothing was off the tables to the closest thing to a non-reaper banshee that existed.

_“By tHe TiME I’M doNE WitH yoU…!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will contain explicit violence and perhaps sexual content. I promise it won’t be gory, a bit bloody perhaps though.
> 
> Yes, Liara has gone completely loopy. Let us hope they can reconcile—Even if…Well, stay tuned to find out!


	3. Hunted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s a bird, it’s a plane—Nope that’s just…..Shepard.\
> 
> The drain of writing--It's starting to take its toll, I feel like I use certain words far too often.
> 
> Please comment and let me know what you think. But that aside, without further ado. 
> 
> Enjoy!

**2189 CE. September 25th – Saturday, Milky Way / Shadow Sea / Lera**

**11:00 AM**

Stalking past the neon red sign, _“Robin’s diner….”_ Not far now, the asari peered up the hill as she strode past, a twisted and wolfish expression etched into her brows and lips. By all definitions, the asari had the appearance of sadistic serial killer, whether it was the natural instincts or her desire to be left alone. She maintained enough distance for the fading sunset to cast a shadow across her features, rendering it incomprehensible for the stray onlooker.

Families, Humans, turians and asari, together. From what she could make out, eating, laughing and celebrating in spacious booths by the windows. It would have been a heart-warming sight were it not for her intense jealousy, she had half a mind to destroy it with her biotics but…What little left of her compassion and level-headed logic in that moment reigned her in.

Liara continued onward to her destination, the frequency of housing and stores seemed to fade before her eyes at a drastic pace, until the road itself formed into a dirt path littered with tiny rocks as if unadopted by the rest of Arcadia. Her boots sank into the gravel lightly. The radical alteration to her scenery was disturbing to say the least, ordinarily it would’ve casted doubts across her mind, but the earlier combination blinded her. _Why did she have to suffer? After sacrificing the most…_ She felt her body shiver—No, shake with turmoil, trudging on further whilst sinking into deep thought.

It was clear now, even to herself. The passing years had taken their toll on her mind and body, she had lost a part of self when Garrus dragged her aching body away from Jane, in the final assault. Yes, it was then. It was the last time her eyes laid on the woman that stole her heart and soul. Only to leave it cracked hours later…. And now, shattered into a million pieces, mere years later…Apparently. Her body however had developed, since the loss, she had taken on numerous activities to enhance her physical capabilities, the first was sexual activity, the months that followed involved heavy drinking and philandering, the guilt that followed lead her to cease and turn to an alternative, notably the N7 programme as if to bury her sorrow behind physical workout and to maintain a connection. She was in better physical shape than ever but…. At a cost.

At first it started off as a mere endorsement but within time she requested for classified training data and began to follow the regime herself. Solitarily of course, with her near unlimited funding, it wasn’t difficult to replicate without the need of fellow sentients. She had noted the intense drain on her mental faculties from lack of sleep and sheer concentration required to push forward, something that came hand in hand with the course. From self-evaluation, Liara placed herself at least as an N5 graduate. Possessing a newfound respect for humanity’s elite, no wonder Anderson and Shepard were so damn resilient. Her work was suffering as a result, were it not for Feron…The likelihood of the identity of the Shadow Broker may have slipped more than once. 

Halting any further progress, Liara sought an alternative, found in the mix of asari huntress meditation and training techniques for biotics. Managing to elevate her biotic abilities just short of Samara’s own precise control and explosiveness. If there ever was a time, she was ready to take down an individual that Harbinger failed to, it was now.

And she intended for it to be slow—Excruciatingly so.

_CLANG!_

The fuming asari raised her head, halting to a stop the path was clear— It was darker now, she glanced down at her hands, barely able to make out the colour of her sleeve and digits. Nature and greenery were the predominant features, evidence of civilisation minimal bar the gravel road and metallic—At best, make-shift shack, seemingly illuminated by dim glow of candlelight. 

….And there she was.

Not exactly. There were two.

A hooded figure garbed in a hooded jersey jumper tugged over their features shrouding their physiognomy, lengthy dress pants whilst in their left hand was an illuminated device with holographic text far too small for her to see. Beside this individual, brawny and muscular, dressed in a simple dark coloured t-shirt perhaps a size too small and denim jean shorts, chuckling heartily at the device. They were positioned behind a metal cylindrical bin. 

“…Shepard?” A quiet murmur, so gentle it was almost innocent, the duo paused mid conversation.

Watching with hawk-like precision, the hooded figure stiffened, their companion merely looked puzzled, turning towards the source—Taken aback by the asari’s body illuminated by her biotics. “Who--?”

A quiet squawk escaped the figure cutting through the heavy silence, drawing the full attention of, they hesitated—It should’ve been impossible to make her face out in the shadows cast by nature. Without warning, they turned on their heel and fleeing towards their haven, hood falling in the process. Revealing a crimson ponytail trailing in their wake.

“SHEPARD!” The information broker bellowed again, leaping high into the air with the aid of biotics followed by a harsh—Pained cry, tears escaped the corner of her eyes, twinkling under the dimming carroty radiance. Slamming with a perceptible shockwave, crunching into ground below and propelling the bin and brawny man backwards a couple feet.

“OOF—ARGH……NGH?!”

Storming forward up to the doormat of the hovel, dismissing the casualty without so much as a glare, “COME OUT HERE, SHEPARD! COME OUT OR—” The furious biotic glanced around, searching for any leverage before setting her gaze on her earlier indiscriminate victim. Tasting bile and lowering her head dangerously, thoughts immediately drifting to the thought that could only occur between two individuals of the opposite sex. Flinging a singularity towards, the heavy-set man still in the process of recovery was levitated into the air helplessly. His cry of astonishment was drowned out by Liara. “COME OUT OR I’LL CRUSH HIS THROAT LIKE A THRESHER MAW TO A MAKO!!!” Rearing a leg into the air, launching a brutally aimed kick towards the sheet metal entranceway. “I—WILL—Huh?!”

The door hard parted, throwing the Shadow Broker off balance whilst her prey leapt forward, tackling into the ground. 

“Unghf--!”

Clamouring to straddle her into the ground, “RUN!” A hoarse grating croak directed towards the levitating human male. The momentary disturbance dispelled the power, he collapsed with an audible grunt

“YOOUUU!!!” The asari roared, wrestling with the feminine figure for a few seconds before rearing an arm back and throwing a heavy haymaker upward only for it to be swayed with ease. Growling as they countered by slipping forward and attempted to slip their arm behind the neck and trap with a triangle armlock. 

_“How reckless…How Shepard.”_ Without armor and shields, the humanoid was helpless before her powers. Curled wrist and twisting palm towards the hooded figure’s back, the pull rocketed them into the air with an audible gasp. Flung by the barely visible force, upon reaching the apex of their flight, the hood retied gave way as they fell back towards the earth. Without skipping a beat, Shadow Broker dusted off before thrusting a claw towards the plummeting human and grasped them with the pure blue energy emanating from.

Tilting her head back slowly, gazes locking between. The shadow broker needed no introduction, sneering at the helpless human. Without a doubt, Jane Shepard. As she remembered except the sharp emerald orbs wide with terror and recognition, bulging lightly from the force enveloping her throat, arched crimson brows, pale and fair skin kissed with ginger freckles flushing from the lack of oxygen. 

Tension palpable, it could be cut with a knife. The captured human flailed before her, multiple emotions crossed their features, shock, horror…. Sadness? How puzzling. 

“Surprised to see me…?” Liara purred up towards, pearly white teeth revealing as her lips curled upward into a sinister smirk contrasting her tear-welled eyes, head cocking as she lowered the human until they were mere centimetres apart. Relishing in the choked garble, the pained and horrified expression delivered a tingling jolt of pleasure to the spine, interrupted by the sudden epiphany. Witnesses

Glancing off to the right, the vindicated asari drew the Phalanx from her waist, raising the weapon up to eye level and lined the iron sight up with the fleeing male. A jerking motion pressing against the biotic grip followed by a hand swinging past her vision interrupted her clear line of sight. Sapphire blue rolled towards, peering at through long hooded lashes into a sullen second, every fibre of her being screamed to pull the trigger but…The asari felt a presence tugging the arm downward, was it…Mercy? Uncertain

“…” Liara’s felt her expression waiver, relenting as if releasing a load off her shoulders. She lowered the weapon, perhaps it wasn’t mercy. But something else buried deep inside. What was it again?

Time ticked by slowly, waiting patiently for the gorgeous face to contort further—Those same lime eyes that she once longed to lose herself in, to roll up into their skull. The reminiscent pleasure returning with greater exhilaration. Bouncing lightly into the air, following through as she slammed her clawed hand into the floor in unison Shepard crunched into the gravel. Biotics pancaking flat into the ground “UNGH—MnnfghhGH!”

The sight was enough for Liara to lose control, pouncing on top of Jane’s back and straddling, leaning over grasping the ponytail with dominant grip and bracing her free hand against the gravel. Ears ringing, the crisp air flooded her nostrils followed by a raging scream as she secured the grip over her ex-lover. Yanking violently, repeatedly bashing the woman’s skull into the dirt path with all the might she could summon. _THUD, THUD…THUD..THUDTHUDTHUDTHUD! _It continued until blood gushed from Shepard’s nose and mouth. The infiltrator’s limbs spasming with every blow, it was only when they fell motionless did the asari halt.__

__Leaning close, eyes narrowing as she listened for any sign of life—A splutter. _Good enough._ Releasing the woman and stumbling onto her feet, bending by the right knee and leaning sideways to loop fingers underneath the hoody and dragging toward the make-shift home before tossing the surprisingly light woman into the very place she sought to hide in from earlier. The brief journey, silent except for the choked gasp. Followed by violent crashing noises._ _

__Truth be told, she had expected more. The tackle was far too weak, as if held back or perhaps without enough leeway to build up force and the ease of the grip when attempting to sink in the grapple hold… _Weak. _____

____Stalking towards, casting a shadow into the shoddy patchwork of avocado shade metal flooring. The inside held the remnant of a tiny but neat living room, a warm cream coloured couch sat behind the undisturbed hazel coffee table in front of the barely medium-sized flat screen tipped over and pinned the human’s legs with wiring spilling across its back, numerous spilled magazines and DVD’s knocked over by the disturbance earlier, Towering over the bloodied sprawled out human, coughing and wheezing. Jane’s eyes slammed shut, left swollen as she rolled about in agony as blood gushed from cut brow and nearly every orifice of her face, arm desperately outstretched and waving about as if pleading for forgiveness or a brief respite. “Anghh! Gng..ah..”_ _ _ _

____Liara’s gaze fell upon the candles, knife and forks turned in towards the plates neatly placed on an oakwood table, evidence of a culinary dish with sauce. The air smelt of lilac. Her hands had clenched into fists again, shaking violently as her body flared with bright cobalt. “Goddess…Help ME..!”_ _ _ _

____Raising both up to her solar plexus, cracking the long digits one by one and rolling her shoulders to shake off the stiffness from all the pent-up rage from days before. Liara glowered, the expression effective as Jane produced a panicked whimper, their gaze darting between and the table all the whilst desperately scrambling backwards with their available limbs. It was going to take nothing less than a miracle to settle the rampaging biotic._ _ _ _

____Asari whispered softly, as soft and murmurous as wings. “I..I’m going to rip you…Limb from…limb.”_ _ _ _

____Taking a single step forward, a pause, looking away she was forgetting something, recalling second later and then glanced at the door, reaching for it before flicking it shut with all her might._ _ _ _

_____BANG._ The entire frame shook._ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I truly did want to get more graphic but…I couldn’t bring myself to harm Shepard anymore ;_;


	4. Garrus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Changing up the pace here, we’ll be viewing this experience from Garrus’s limited POV. I hope the pacing is okay.
> 
> Let me know what you think
> 
> I know this Fanfiction is labeled to have Rape--But at this point I'm contemplating it to Dubcon. I'm still undecided but will likely stick to the former.

**2189 CE. September 25 th – Saturday, Milky Way / Shadow Sea / Lera**

**4:00 PM**

...

With a sharp hiss, the THS Mantis deployed its boarding ramp before the wide enclosure. A single turian stood at the forefront, Garrus Vakarian, glancing over his shoulder and waved forward. Fellow navy men and marines bustled to life, as they worked to haul out supplies, goods and equipment under his careful observation.

Over the years he had made some changes to his trademark appearance, forgoing his single-eye visor in place for a more relaxed aesthetic. He found it served to come off less intimidating with the children, particularly the humans. Scanning back and forth, quietly nodding to himself in approval at their efficiency, chest swelling accompanied with a satisfied sigh and felt a tug to the corner of his mandibles.

“Executor Vakarian—Sir!”

Turning his neck to the source, a stockier turian stood at salute, a rather fresh faced, sharp-eyed and conscientious by the war-heroes standards. The relatively young navy man had apparently distinguished himself late in the reaper war, leading a ragtag band of surviving marines last line of defence against sporadic waves of reaper forces. Almost rigid but with enough flexibility to earn a modicum of respect, indicating his acknowledgement with a tip of his head, “Major Malnius.”

Dropping the salute and at attention, arms pressed firmly against his armor before confidently announcing, “Everything is proceeding at an acceptable pace, sir. We await further orders!”

Nodding slowly in agreement, Garrus faced back towards the bustling soldiers, “Very good. I have some business here, we’ll be taking a brief shore leave here. Tell the men to take it easy.”

The scuff of boots, “Sir!” Followed quickly by a _whap_ , marching off into the distance.

Garrus called over mid-way through his underlings’ departure, “Major!” He allowed a brief pause, adding with a sly smirk, a touch of humour evident in his tone. “Do inform them that any soldier caught passed out in unacceptable quarters will be written up.”

An amused snort followed, “Ahem—Of course, Vakarian, sir!”

With that Garrus started his journey towards customs, boots clicking lightly against the marble interior as he paused shortly before the armed guards. He offered a brief nod to the starstruck duo, “Welcome back to Horizon, Mr. Vakarian!” The enthusiastic welcome brought a faint smile to his battle-scarred features

“At ease boys, just decided to drop by to visit an old friend after a patrol.” He chuckled and strode past with a shake of his head. Pleasantly surprised by how times had changed, in the years following the war he was granted the rank of fleet general within the Turian hierarchy and Spectre membership although the former was honorary and downplayed to executor—By his own request. The strained relationship he had with bureaucracy and political red tape remained from the many years following up to the near-extinction event.

He held considerable sway and influence following the war. Everyone that had served on the Normandy, even the former members of Cerberus and individuals who maintained a short stint with the team did although that came with its own downsides, the attention. Chuckling quietly at the memory of their last gathering how Samara, the quiet asari justicar of all people expressed her concern and annoyance after a few glasses of Ryncol.

Surprisingly Subject Zero handled the press with the utmost patience…At least comparatively, no doubt the years as a teacher and students had begun to rub off on her. Jon Grissom academy was practically held at gunpoint by a tidal wave of outraged parents throughout the galaxy to accept students of multiple races. The Normandy crew’s ‘Jack’ swear jar was just a few credits short of an Alliance heavy cruiser.

Garrus loosed a quiet guttural groan, the hefty heap of paperwork sat on top of a tiny white desk greeted the Turian infiltrator in front of the pleasant faced asari marked with violet facial tattoos that contrasted a rare teal complexion, a thin sheet of bullet proof glass separated them.

“Here you go, Mr. Vakarian. Just fill out these and you’re free to go—Ah, your soldiers will have to fill out their own though.” The honeysweet voice did little to blunt his dismay, his reaction stimulating a hint of mirth in the woman. “I’m surprised, given your reputation that is.”

The turian offered an inquisitive tilt of his head. Motioning for her to elaborate, “Well…It’s just the magazines and the press, they say you’re practically inseparable with your sniper rifle.” That elicited a hearty chuckle from.

“I ordinarily wouldn’t part without but I’m meeting with a friend, I doubt the two of us will encounter any trouble—Unless there’s something I should know about?” He lowered his tone huskily, much to the asari’s fluster

“No—No no! Absolutely not, Arcadia is a peaceful town. Nobody would DARE to harm you—Half the residents here have a shirt with you on it!” That comment was unexpected, bringing a rush of heat to his cheeks.

“Haha…Ha…A bit, disturbing. But could be worse.” Immediately his thoughts drifted to the N7 knock off jumpers, when he visited the Citadel shortly following the repairs, every asari and human child had one—At a certain point, he believed it to be standard issue.

He continued to reminisce as he cleared the customs paperwork, finally as he stabbed the pen with a flourish to his signature. As the limited bureaucratic work ended, his exterior demeanour improved considerably. Turning towards the exit, stepping out into Horizon, Arcadia. It was too far and in between that he had the opportunity to relax with, what the humans termed ‘best friend’ but at last, here was some well-deserved shore leave.

The sun was setting already, the many citizens of Arcadia trickled towards, away from the intersection ahead, many of them carried thick and compact cases. Upon further inspection, he recognised many of the brandings, they were rifle cases, Hahne-Kedar and Elkoss Combine. “ _Huh, must be the new shooting range.”_ Raising a hand up to her chin and rubbed it curiously, his teeth clicking together gently as his forehead creased gently into a light scowl. _“Which way was it again?”_

With a shrug, he headed against the flow of traffic. Banking on the idea and belief that the changing scenery would jog his memory. The thought of embracing his old friend put a bounce in his step.

_“Hang on, Shepard. I’ve got a bottle of Akantha with your name on it. We’ll get this mess sorted soon enough.”_

…

Just as the Turian infiltrator had hoped, the open shooting range off to his left in all its glory. Mere months ago, it was a dirt pile with hefty tractors and construction in its wake, working around the hours to have the state-of-the-art range finished before his departure—Not that they managed but it was the thought that counted. After all his visit was impromptu, having received an encrypted private message to his direct line of communication. Horribly cryptic. If it weren’t for the dead giveaway mention of the presidium, he would’ve discarded it as junk mail, but he was thankful for that—It was reflective of the Shepard he knew. Tactical cloak? Check, Light on her feet with an uncanny knack for repositioning? Check. Bulky anti-material sniper rifle with the capabilities of deafening a turian? Double check.

She was against the grain as anyone he knew. If anyone could survive an exploding superweapon, it would be damned if it wasn’t Jane Shepard.

_“That is still my favourite place on the Citadel. I hope they rebuilt it like before. Would like to visit there again.”_

Garrus paused at the corner, gathering his bearings before heading alongside the gun range, besides the trajectory towards the targets. His stride growing more purposeful before a thought crossed his mind, clutching his forehead as his eyes slammed shut. How could he forget?! The bottle of alcohol—Stupid! _“Bah…It’s too late now. I’m sure there’s a dingy bar around, somewhere inconspicuous.”_

He could imagine her face right now, the all too knowing smirk followed by an up-nod. “You’re losing your edge, Garrus—Round two on the presidium is starting to look favourable.”

Well….If she could talk yet. It was a difficult sight last time—He had seen the remnants of re-entry, if there was anything to be thankful to Cerberus for, it was those damn Cybernetics and technology, whatever they did to Shepard, saved her life not once but twice now. The pictures and documents he dug up—There was no way anyone ordinary could recover from, just imagining the wounding and aftermath sent a chilly shiver down his spine. Yet there here she was, her features largely in tact and recovering by the day, slowly but surely. Not only that, she was a wanted fugitive, due to lack of identification, the woman had no fingerprints or dog tags left and fleeing the hospital charged with care, that was the least he could do—To have it buried under so much bureaucratic crap, they dismissed the case.

Still, he could only imagine the suffering she had to go through—He sympathised with the woman and although initially upset, he came to accept the decision to vanish. A particularly painful pang gripped his heart as he recounted that she had originally intended for it to be permanent, to live the rest of her life in solitude. And then there was Liara, his dear bookworm friend turned Shadow Broker. By now it was no secret among the close collective but there were doubts given her behaviour following Shepard’s unconfirmed death.

At every gathering, the Asari seemed to be improving—On the road to recovery. But there was something different, Garrus wasn’t sure at first but upon reuniting with Shepard, it cleared up. She was just trying to drown out the memories and anguish, he had consulted Samara concerning the situation, under the guise it was for distant friend that he had served along in C-Sec.

Liara was drifting apart from them. They had only served to remind her of the all the loss, not once but twice. He couldn’t blame her, after all he was the one who dragged her off into the Normandy as Shepard ordered the two to evacuate whilst she pressed onward into the light.

And it was in this, he saw the opportunity of redemption. As Chakwas once cautioned the Commander, she needed positive thoughts to heal the scarring and if he could provide even a fraction of that, he would be at ease. By the spirits if anyone deserved a happy ending, it was Shepard. Years of dismissal, followed by harsh speculation and now…Even in the aftermath, she was branded an outsider. But this time, purely voluntary. It had taken a considerable toll too, the loss of confidence, self-doubt and inability to communicate without electronic aid. She was like a shell of her former self, stripped away of its purpose and design.

The turian found it incredibly frustrating as it was completely out of his area of influence, on one hand if he spent time in public with the woman whilst disfigured and weakened, the likelihood of her identity slipping would draw suspicion and danger. The other, there was nothing he could possibly do to sway the public’s opinion indirectly without the same consequences. Thus, he arrived at his genius plan—To have the legendary woman re-establish her reputation slowly, the shooting range if the people of Arcadia could come to respect the sheer prowess, it could ease her reintegration into society. Well…He had hoped but—Not all was going according to plan, in their brief exchange of messages, she had avoided picking up a weapon since.

“H-HELP! HELP..! HEEEELLPPP!”  
  
Garrus snapped out of it, he had crossed the diner without noticing already, the gravelly path sinking underneath his spurred legs. In the distance was a brawny male barrelling towards him, “What the hell…?” He was heading away from Shepard’s dwelling—Did he know?!

The turian lowered his stance and braced himself as the man practically charged into him, grasping the side of his arms desperately spluttering an incomprehensible as his walrus moustache waggled in the air. “Asari—Attacked—Biotics! HURT! HELP! FRIEND, DIE!”

Grasping the heavy-set man by his collar, shaking gently. He ordered with a firm, authoritative tone that he often watched his friend perform. “Calm down man! You’re not making any sense. Deep breathes!”

Wheezing heavily, chest seemingly sucking gargantuan amounts of oxygen and expelling, the burly man calmed enough to speak. Eyes still wide with concern, cheeks drooping in dismay at first before recognition set in. “My friend—We were attacked by—Garrus? Vakarian?”

“Yes—Now you were saying, hurry up man. If there’s someone in danger, we have to act swiftly!”

“O-OH, right! My friend, Allison….We were attacked by an asari—I think? Moderate blue, insanely powerful biotic! She was screaming the name, Shepard”

Garrus recoiled considerably, _“Shepard!”_ He glanced at the direction the man had come from, a distant crashing noise arrived on cue. “Powerful biotic...Moderately blue asari?” He muttered quietly to himself before addressing, “Come on, I get the feeling I’ll need help. Whatever you do, stay low and behind. Do what you feel is most appropriate. If you think run, then run. If you see an opportunity to restrain or attack them, I’ll authorize it.” There was no way he was taking any chances with his friend’s life.

The human’s moustache waggled and trembled, despite the evident terror in his grey sunflower tinged irises he nodded. “O-Okay!”

Surely it couldn’t be…

[Cheeky recommended song link: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZCk4RiKH9H0>]

Garrus broke into a quick sprint, racing ahead of the human. The spurred legs offering a moderate advantage over his human counterpart, bounding the great distance they had covered in nearly half the time. He could hear the screams up ahead, they were coarse mixed with a near maniacal laughter. Practically leaping over the tipped over garbage can and its mess, the turian slammed into the sheet metal door, unhinging the frame slightly as it crashed open to reveal the mess inside.

Straddled on top of a human, whose arms had splayed out to the side, barely twitching as an all too familiar asari whaled harsh blows down at. The open palm nature of the strikes did little to withhold the turian’s horror as blood had splattered the flooring.

“LIARA!?” Garrus called out, drawing the ire of the raging biotic. Turning midst their relentless assault, revealing Shepard’s face, it had been pretty savagely brutalized, the brow was cut and both eyes had begun to swell, one evidently larger than the other. Blood gushed in free flow from the still remarkably straight nose whilst blubbering from their mouth. Drawing a gasp of shock from. “Liara! That’s Shep—” His sentence was cut short as the woman pounced toward like tigress, arms outstretched, and fingers curled into claws as her limbs ignited with cobalt again.

“YOU..!! YOU WERE MY FRIEND TOO! WHY?!?” The former archaeologist bellowed, her remarkably long but dainty fingers wrapped around his throat, throttling with force that could likely rival a krogan. Wasn’t she a quarter krogan?

The former c-sec officer gasped, her words rang in his ears eliciting a gentle worm of guilt in his stomach, grasping the arms and desperately attempting to pry them off—Unable to answer the question as he could only mere wheeze out, “S—S—Kuh..top!” As his vision began to falter, the infiltrator clasped his respective elbows and exerted pressure against the asari’s arms from above, pinning them against his chest and alleviating the pressure around his neck. “LIARKH-A..LISS..UHN!” Attemping to reason with the raging biotic again to little avail.

Eyebrows raising in alarm as his friend reared her head back, launching a brutal headbutt against the bridge of his nose. Dazing him considerably, allowing her arms to slip out from underneath, “TRAITOR—”

“No…Wait—” It was too late, he felt his body lift into the air with a tight grasp around his chest. “Argh…h!”

“Mr. Vakarian!” The familiar voice called out from behind—It was that brawny human again.

“YOU’RE NEXT!” A near banshee like growl of frustration left the human paralyzed.

Grasping the momentarily lapse in Liara’s focus, Garrus reared his leg back and launched a powerful front kick—Like his primitive ancestors did for self-defence. Blasting the distracted woman backwards, into the wooden kitchen bench behind the dining table, shattering the thick wood as she crunched half way in.

The barely visible force around his chest relenting, he dropped to his knees clutching his throat with eyes slammed shut, “Kugh—Kuh…Spirits—She has a…Grip.” He remarked, plucking himself up and stumbling over to his other collapsed friend. Her cheeks were bruised black and blue, no doubt from the savage round of slapping. The rest of her features were in considerably worse position, particularly the nasty cut to the brow, a scar from the past reopening.

“….Gar….rus?” The grating voice croaked, bringing a relieved light to the turian’s features.

Crouching down beside he gingerly inspected the injuries with a soft chuckle. “Well..I guess you’re as ugly as I am now, Shepard.” _Paff_

He glanced down, the former N7 soldier’s fist sat below his chest. Reaching down he grasped it and met her gaze with a query.

A nod.

He stood up and gently lifted the woman up onto their feet. Wobbling dangerously for a second, deciding to test the waters with a joke. “Lover’s quarrel?”

She shook his head and attempted to muster the most scornful glare possible. It was too ridiculous looking, he had to fight to hold back his laughter—He was glad to, his throat was on fire still.

“I-Is it s-safe now…?”

Garrus observed Shepard offer the man a small nod and a tiny smile. Turning his own gaze to the place, eyes falling upon the candle lit table and half-unfinished plates of food. “You didn’t…”

His best friend looked sheepish, rubbing the back of her neck and offering a ginger shrug. She had lost weight again, nearly skeletal compared to her prime.

“Of all the days, you picked the one where she was coming over?”

She shook her head wildly.

“YOU didn’t know?”

Nod—Nod!

“Oh spirits…This doesn’t look good for you. Where’s Jack when you need her”

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to pause here—I’m sure we can guess what happens next! The diner talk!
> 
> Going ahead from here, we’ll like continue with Garrus for a bit more. If you have any suggestions for other characters you’d like to see. Leave a comment and let me know!


	5. Diner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Garrus POV.
> 
> I was originally going to have this after the err…Vigorous love making against one’s will scene. But having taken everything into consideration. The scene will happen later in the story, and be less dark…More along the extreme side of dubious consent.
> 
> Leave a review, if it ain't too much trouble!

**2189 CE. September 25 th – Saturday, Milky Way / Shadow Sea / Lera**

**5:32 PM**

**...**

“Is that…? Ohmigosh..”

“What are they doing—Is that Robb?

“Shh—They can hear you!”

“Ohh…I think that’s Liara T’soni!”

Garrus loosed a barely audible groan, head tilting backwards into the thin plastic that separated his skull from their neighbouring booths. The four of them, an unidentified human, Shepard, an unconscious asari, Liara T’soni and finally…Himself.

Shepard clung to a giant wad of tissues, pressed gingerly against, he could only guess from underneath the oversized grey hoody—Bordering a cloak for the woman in comparison. Like a squirrel with a nut. She was hunched forward slightly, producing the faintest of whimpers occasionally whilst nursing the injuries sustained from the woman who was lying unconscious across from.

Besides her was the human shouting for her rescue just minutes before—The two of them had to haul the two women here. The conversation was brief at best, a relatively short distance but a tense trudge. His dark and mildly worried expression indicated the many questions he had but bit back out of hesitation and fear.

“Nngh…My back..Chest!”

The turian’s attention snapped to his right, raising both his hands in front of in a calming motion, knowing full well the asari potentially reacting terribly to the zip tie hand cuffs restraining her arms. His voice was quiet, no louder than murmur. His tone was akin to a parent lecturing their child, “Liara—Please, hear us out. This is for your own good..”

Slowly but surely, the asari’s long lashes fluttered open and greeted her primary victim’s gaze provoking a visible flinch from. Their brows furrowed with a corner of their lip tugging to the side into a dirty look. They held the glare as they wiggled up in the seat, raising both arms onto the table without so much a glance at the restraints. She looked like half a mind to pounce across the retro dining table and resume her earlier activity. Thrusting the limbs forward at—Jane flinched again, nearly banging her head against the plastic that Garrus had earlier. Evidently enjoying the reaction as the sneer twitched down to a smirk, Liara turned by the hips toward Garrus. Without breaking the gaze, “Remove them.” A tense pause followed by, “Please.”

Garrus was reluctant and shook his head, “No way.” He withstood the glare before continuing, “You just beat Shepard’s daylights out and attempted to crush my throat like a Krogan would to a pyjak.”

Liara countered coldly, turning to face her old friend. “I do still have biotics at my disposal. Lest you want this to become bloody again.”

“That’s hardly an incentive.”

They fell silent again.

Murmurs and whispers growing followed by a _click_. “ARE YOU CRAZY?” An asari and turian couple bickered amongst themselves as the former held up their omnitool in what could only be assumed in camera function

A seething exhale followed by flaring nostrils, Liara composed herself slowly, the resentment and annoyance drained from until her perfect and innocent façade had replaced completely. Sparking an alarmed response from Garrus, exchanging glances with Shepard for a split second.

“….I will, to the best of my abilties, refrain from causing trouble. IF you remove these…Annoyances.”

By the spirits—It was like observing a younger and inconceivably more innocent looking Aria T’loak.

“Fine. I have your word on this.” Garrus raised his proportionately thicker finger at the asari, only when she begrudgingly nodded, did he ignite his omni-tool’s blade. Burning through the plastic as easily as a hot knife through butter.

Grasping each wrist and working the stiffness from, the two infiltrators seemed to be on the edge of their seats. It sounded awful but as of this moment, the alien before them was…Practically a stranger with the uncanny resemblance of a former teammate.

Turning away from and back to the almost quivering human woman, glance shifting downward presumably toward the ball of bloody tissues. Sucking in a deep breath, arms and legs crossing respectively as they sat back into the dense leather booths. “Spe—

“Umm—Hi…Can..Ahem. Can I take your orders?” A squeaky voice drew their attention, faltering mid-way as they realised what they had done, cutting the asari short. It was another human, female, familiar. Chocolate kissed freckles and round ears dressed in vertically striped red and white diner doll costume.

“Madeline?”

“Yes.”

Liara and Garrus responded in unison respectively, the latter turned back. “Well, I am famished.”

He received a dismissive grunt and averted gaze. “Cappuccino, I think you humans call it.”

“S..Sorry? I couldn’t catch that..”

“Cappuccino. **Please.** ”

The girl tapped into her omni-tool quickly.

“Err…I’ll have the….” Garrus peered past the waitress, glancing over the menu. “The dextro-pancakes. With ice cream.”

“Right away—Erm, for you Mr. Mileham?” Madeline turned to the closest human, eyes wide as she desperately attempted to ignore the many stares drilling into her skull from every angle.

“Uhh…Hi, Maddie dear…Banana..Split?” His voice a mere fraction of the rest of the groups. Being the closest and apparently a regular, it made sense she picked up the order immediately

“Right! And…Uhm…Miss…Gunn? Is that you?” The teen inquired with a puzzled expression, brightening almost immediately as the woman confirmed their identity. “This is the first time I’ve seen you here—Any restaurant actually…” Gaze flicking to the side, Garrus could only guess was because Liara exhaled tautly

He turned his gaze to Shepard, the wad of tissues gone, drawing with her fingers, two index fingers pressed against each other side by side, parting to form a circular motion. Followed by two sets of perpendicular and parallel lines.

The quick-witted Madeline apparently understood immediately, “Robin’s famous waffles?” His gaze snapped backed immediately as Shepard nodded quickly, raising two bloody thumbs up. Followed by a claw falling on top of her now out-stretched palm. “Ice cream? Chocolate or—Chocolate, got it. I—I’ll be right back!” Fleeing into the back as if death was on her tail.

A mocking voice to his right could be heard, “Your little brat, Allison Gunn.”

Garrus stared at the withering human, he could tell through the shadowy guise she was paling considerably.

“Liara…” He was cut off by a long pale cerulean digit.

“Where was I on the list, Shepard? Garrus apparently knew, who else?! DOES HE KNOW?” Her voice was hushed but furious. She gestured with all her fingers of the hand utilised just earlier to silence him.

“Liara! She can’t talk.” He followed suit

“Bullshit. I heard her yell run at this…This ungainly thing.”

Mileham opened his mouth, then shut it promptly. Wise choice.

“And what did she sound like? Not pleasant I bet” Garrus quickly retorted, offering the bulkier human across from him a sympathetic glance.

That was enough to elicit a pause. Deep violet lips parted uncertainly, unable to come up with a response. Forehead wrinkling faintly as they seemingly recalled the voice.

“See? Unless something has drastically changed, the last time I heard her voice it was like that chalky stuff on that primitive blackboard.”

“Chalk.”

“..What?”

“It’s called Chalk, Garrus.”

Their volume had resumed and their actions less frantic.

“That’s beside the point, Liara. I swear to you, whatever misunderstanding we have here. I can help Shepard defend herself.” He glanced at the latter, the poor human looked like she wanted to curl into a ball and disappear underneath the table.

As if sensing this, the cerulean blue asari turned to him, “Fine. What was HE doing at Shepard’s house? I saw candles Garrus, CANDLES.”

Ah shit, she went for the jugular. “Uhh…Err. I’m sure they were just..having..?” He raised his talons defensively and glanced off to the side.

_“She must have been extremely lonely...”_

“W-W-We were ju-just having d-dinner.” The brawny human male interjected with a heavy stammer, he shot a look over to the nearly curled up human to his left for confirmation. She delivered with rapid-fire nods.

He leaned in closer to her, evidently the two well-reputed aliens provided enough intimidation to the presumably confident male. “A..Are they referring to you, Allison?” No response.

“No.”

“Yes.”

Garrus and Liara answered again in unison, the former lying through his teeth.

The human recoiled away from, leaning towards the aliens now. Addressing the less intimidating of the two, “Y..You’re not really, is she? L-Like the love-child of..?”

“No, you giant idiot. We call her Shepard because it’s humorous to make fun of the **dead**.” Liara answered sarcastically before he had the chance. The woman had become considerably more vicious since their departure from the Normandy.

The colour drained from Mileham’s face, as if an omni-blade was pierced through his chest. Garrus almost felt tempted to check, his lower lip quivered dangerously along with his thick walrus moustache. Glancing between the three of them, hardly able to process the fact he sat among the legendary trio who had saved the galaxy as they knew it. And the fact that he might’ve attempted to woo one of them. Which whom they had inexplicable relations with another.

“Err…It’s a long story...“ Garrus shifted away as an unfamiliar velvet coloured asari garbed in the diner’s uniform delivered their refreshments. Water for the trio and a murky frothy brown liquid for Liara. They parted their lips and jolted a little, their gaze transfixed at the only other asari at the table, a hint of lust and admiration behind eyes. Deciding against it, they quickly retreated like Madeline before.

An uncomfortable peace settled like a thick fog over them, sipping at their drinks as they waited for the rest of their orders to arrive. Liara tested the drink, taken aback from the initial taste. But returning for a second, deeper sip.

He noted Shepard raising a hand into their hood, dabbing with their lengthy sleeves. He could only imagine what she was going through, unable to defend herself properly, verbally inadequate and the wrist mounted omni tool communicator damaged beyond field repairs. The woman she loved grilling her relentlessly and evidently different to memory, relatively oblivious to all the experiences that had moulded them into where they were now.

The news had struggled to cover the doctor’s activities bar the occasional academic submission and the initial publication of ‘Journey with a Prothean’ that stemmed from her frequent interactions with Javik, the only surviving prothean. Evident the two possessed a close relationship. Everyone else received adequate and frequent updates, especially the former Cerberus staff as they strived to redeem themselves in front of the alien races to relatively decent success. Miranda and Kelly were trailblazers in this regard.

The kitchen doors swung open with an uncomfortably loud squeak amidst the quiet murmurs, Madeline shuffled over towards the quiet table with a large tray balanced on her wrist and fingers, she was stiff in her movements. Clearing her throat, leaning down to deliver the various foods. “Banana split for Mr. Mileham…Dextro pancakes and ice cream for my ido—I mean, Mr. Vakarian. Aaand Robin’s famous waffles and ice cream for Miss Gunn the mummy beauty.”

That elicited a sharp hiss from Liara.

Quick to change the subject and unwilling to leave on a sour note, Madeline pivoted to address Garrus. “U..Uhm, I’m not sure if you remember, Mr. Vakarian b-but I was that little girl, you showed me how to posture whilst shooting?”

His sharp brows relaxed, mandibles parting raising into the air as understanding dawned upon him. He knew that he had met her somewhere, “Ahh, yes…! Of course, I was wracking my head trying to remember, how has it been going?”

“W—Well! I just recently managed to hit the inner golden rings at seventy-five meters with a pistol only! Th-Thanks to Dr. T’soni here.” She gestured with an arm.

“Impressive! If I’m not careful, I might have found a new contender.” Garrus joked humorously, clasping his talons together, a wide smile tugged at his features before shooting Liara a smug grin. So she wasn’t completely bat-shit insane, how _reassuring_. Maybe Jack and her could be playmates for days when Miranda wasn’t busy.

Liara grumbled, “It’s just…Liara.” She paused and trailed off, staring out into the dark sky. “For you, dear.”

The teen nodded hesitantly before continuing, “A-Anyway… Mr.Vakarian, will we see you at the shooting range…?” Gaze shifting away from as the woman in the corner hastily dug into the meal, content noises sparking an amused snort.

“Ahh…Perhaps, I do have a score to settle with someone on the table here. Maybe two….” He glanced at Liara before back to Madeline. “Perhaps…Three?” His smile only broadened at the excited squeal.

Quickly bidding them an enjoyable meal, they fled to the table of six, staring towards with a volus’s chubby arms raised in the air requesting for staff attention.

Garrus turned down to his bluish hued pancakes, stabbing into it and slicing with expert precision, the perfect balance of ice cream, blueberry sauce and dextro-pancake. “Mmnnm..Oh, this is good stuff.”

He couldn’t help but peer at the others, curious to how their food was. Mileham scraped against his split gingerly, appetite evaporated along with his will to speak. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a faint almost sweet smile on the perfect full sized lips of the asari as they observed softly at the human wolfing down their waffles, cheeks likely squirrel cheeked from the pace they went at whilst seeming blissfully forgotten in the earlier debacle.

 _Maybe there is hope for them after all…_ Daring to nudge the asari with the lightest jab to the waist with his elbow, smug. A dull pain shot through his taloned feet, a heel twisted and drove deeply into followed by a contemptuous icy dismissive glare.

“Is this your first restaurant meal, Shepard?” He queried curiously through his wince.

Nod-nod-nod~!

“Heh…You should’ve told me last time, we could’ve gone somewhere nice.”

Shrug!

A limb darted across his vision, across the table and pinching the crispy golden-brown waffle. The asari’s curiosity having gotten the better of her, tearing off a piece and dipping it into the mocha coloured icy treat melting from above before placing it carefully into her lips, chewing slowly at first. 

Sensing the hope in her now culpable bond mate, seeing fit and grasping any opportunity to guilt further. “This means nothing.” She stated bluntly despite her expression softening marginally.

Garrus continued to observe carefully but in his chest and movements had begun to ease. It seemed like the two were on the right path—Not that he was an expert on love. Heck he needed Shepard to wingman him on the Citadel, but the moment was sweet by anyone’s standard. There were many matters to address still.

Leaning over, covering his mouth with his hand and whispered “Liara, when you’re finished.” Glanced at the two humans, affirming his belief. They had issues to sort out between themselves. “We need to have a talk. Privately.”

“…Fine. But if Shepard runs— Putting a bullet through that spine. I’m not done with her yet.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, “Come on, believe me. This wasn’t how she wanted to reunite with you, trust me. I’ve heard all about it.” He placed a comforting grasp against her shoulder.

“…” She shot a dirty scowl elsewhere predictably. Then she asked a question he hadn’t expected, audibly. “When are we telling everyone else?”

Across the table, the clang of silverware rang audibly.

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This should be the end of Garrus’s POV for a chapter or two. I am unsure whether I want to touch this story with Jane’s except for a flashback.


	6. Flashback, Misery: Jane's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chapter I had written in the past, I had planned for it to come later. But I feel bad for not updating in a while due to my laptop breaking and the lack of time coming ahead.
> 
> It would’ve been an interesting perspective if this story was from Jane’s perspective no?
> 
> What do you think? Let us know!
> 
> It is a short chapter, sorry!

**Recommended ambience:** <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cvQLjfLw644>

In midst of the sterile, polystyrene and spacious tiled room, wrapped in bandages on top of the low seated bed, frame bearing signs of rust and a worryingly thin mattress. Tufts of crimson sprouted from underneath the many layers of uncomfortable dressing, an orthopaedic cast enveloped the rest of her body whilst suspending all limbs into the air.

The entertainment made available were passing one-sided conversations from the serene and overworked nurses and the plasma flat screen angled ineffectively. Having to strain her eyes downward to obtain a passable view, they often sat for hours on end, listening.

This was their new life, all they had done since waking from their coma. How _glamorous_. However, they had been counting the days, sixty-one, that was now. The day they removed it all.

On cue, a quiet hiss drew their attention, glimmering and excited emeralds turned their gaze towards the source. The automatic doors had parted, revealing two individuals striding through. A familiar sight as they parked themselves beside the bed.

“Ah, the burn patient, our very special Jane Doe.”

The woman transfixed her gaze to the stout aging man garbed in a tattered white coat and stethoscope with a receding winter-white hairline, wayworn eyes yet an amiable smile crinkled his weary mien.

“I do feel compelled to remind you my dear, that everything will recover in due time. Including your speech, fingerprints and appearance. There will be some scarring due to the grafts, but we have taken every precaution to minimise it.” He paused, swallowed, shifting his gaze momentarily, doubt creased his brows for the briefest moment before recovering and continued.

Were it not for Jane’s trained eyes. The excited spark faded visibly, the life drained through like a leaky bucket. A blunt ball of lead formed in the pit of her stomach, gaze dropping briefly, in the corner of her vision, the accompanying nurse sympathetically averted their own. Tears welled in the corner of her eyes, heat rushed to the cheeks, a guttural choking noise escaped. An alien noise never heard before now, it took a moment for the bed-ridden woman to realise it came from none other than herself. There was a heat coursing through up the arms and down her spine, jaw clenching firmly as if bracing for impact.

A heavy silence settled over, unsettled eyes glanced unceremoniously around. Broken only when the nurse tucked her chin inward and attempted to straighten, seemingly locked in an internal struggle before clearing her throat. Voice caught briefly, “Doct..Doctor, shall we begin?”

“….Ah, yes. Let us, nurse Keira.”

….

_Drip….Drip….Drip…Drip._

Underneath the shroud of darkness, in front of the bathroom mirror. A sliver of moonlight spilled through the veil thin opaque curtains, illuminating all behind the figure braced against the sink with the leaking faucet. Lessening the inky blackness of the room she stood in with its white-silver glow, hesitantly the figure raised her hunched neck. Bar the lustre emeralds, Jane’s features were shrouded by the night. She felt stiff, as if every muscle was knotted. It took visible effort for her to make it here.

Jane shivered violently, breath unsteady, and mouth dry not from dread. The air tasted musty despite the sterile and dustless chamber. Eyelids slammed shut as an image summoned by her memory nearly brought her down to a kneel, the sight of her lichenified arms and unnatural stiffness accompanied her movements provoked a hoarse moan.

A faint string of hope kept her insanity at bay, an individual to be precise. Hunger clawed at her mind, it was the desperate craving for the touch of her bond-mate. Pleasure tugged at the corner of her cheeks as her eyes flickered open hallucinating the pale blue beauty’s, perfectly oval shaped face, straight nose, sapphire blue hues crinkle gently as her full lips spread into a satisfied beam, in her background, the presidium in all its glory. T’soni…

With that hope, gaze staring off seemingly into the distance toward the pitch-black ceiling, Jane sluggishly departed away from the sink, unsteady in her retreat. The silvery beam of light bathed her flesh in its glow, as the ceiling retreated, and the dimly lit doorframe came into view and finally nearly blinding her unadjusted orbs and jolting the woman out of delusion. Dropping her gaze steadily, Jane felt her stiff fingers of her dominant right curl lightly, meeting great resistance from the subconscious action. Swallowing, mouth like sandpaper as her gaze fell upon the edge of the clean-cut mirror until finally befalling upon the hideous alien being in front of her. Pupils dilating and eyelids raising, a spike in her alertness. There was a vice-like grip in her chest, adrenaline coursed through her veins, she felt more attuned to the surroundings—To the truth.

Staring back at her. Was a ghoul of a human, tattered, leathered and discoloured, tufts of wiry hair decorated with scar tissue and lacking even eyebrows, closer to vorcha bar the exposed teeth, disfigured nose and sunken eyes.

A thud rang through her ears, gaze toward the ceiling before tipping forward into her lap. A dull throb followed by a piercing knife-like sensation sank into her core. Her surroundings dimmed and grew darker, wrinkled hands quivering under the moonlight. The pale dyed hospital gown contrasted her flesh unappealingly, the unfamiliar croak only served to deliver the crushing reality down upon the fragile figure. A horrifying cycle of discovery, of sacrifice…All in the line of duty. Of survival. The body she resided in was alien to her.

The once soothing image of her bond-mate vanished and in its place was the presidium on fire, whilst the goddess, her light, stared back in horror. Gentle sapphire orbs wide with horror, lips curling in disgust at the sight whilst slender and seemingly delicate hand clutched her tummy as if to fight the urge to purge the content of her stomach. At a familiar figure—None other than Jane herself.

Unsteadily the alien limbs came to grasp Jane’s skull, grasping at strands of her wispy hair. Heartbeat pounded like a battering ram against her chest, echoing the sensation and reverberating throughout her entire body, a chilling skeletal hand grasped the top of her skull and gently tilted her head upwards. Tears streamed down her once smooth cheeks, dusk consumed the friable figure’s field of vision.

“GRRGRHGHAAGGGHH!!!!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I would like to remind the reader, paragon player and writer apparently. Fret not.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think, leave a review!


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